#its like. youre in a terrible situation and feeling awful and a part of your brain chirps up like

[candyskiez]

so do you spiral into rage whenever you realize the person who got you seconds away from killing yourself is moving on with their life when somedays you still feel like you're stuck in that moment that fucking traumatized you and how unfair it is that they get to move on when you almost ended it all over them or do you not have a deep seated fear that you jave no effect on the people aroujd you

[xo2dee]

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ

✶ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Choso x Reader

✶ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

✶ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1,003

✶ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: As sweet as he was, your boyfriend really couldn't cook to save his life.

✶ ᴀ/ɴ: never written for choso but i wanted to start with something little and hopefully something thats not ass as ive planned a choso longfic for the future and wanted to practice a bit. also i like to hc that he'd be a terrible cook ngl lmao. hope you enjoy!

✶ twitter - ao3

“Um…”

Not your most eloquent response, but you supposed it could match the… delicacy of the situation.

By your side you felt him move, his shoulder bumping against your own as he shifted on his feet at your mumble and ducked his head lower to put his ear closer to your mouth. You could almost feel the sweat lining your forehead, his dark eyes boring into the side of your face as you fought to keep a straight face and stared pointedly at the… ‘food’ in front of you. It was hard not to laugh, your lips quivering and stomach knotting in a ball from holding your breath for so long, but the last thing you wanted to do was hurt your fairly new boyfriend’s feelings.

Even if he couldn’t cook a damn thing to save his life.

(No way Yuji lived with him like that… Either he cooked, or he was eating out every night.)

In your peripherals you eyed Choso for his body language. It was clear he was eager for your answer; perhaps a little praise here and there for his ‘astounding’ cooking expertise, but you weren’t oblivious to the anxious undertones he was permitting as well. It was almost like he knew he fucked up, but he wanted you to give it to him easy, so he didn’t have to come to terms that you and Yuji possible grinned and bared it every time he made something for the either of you two (and you didn’t even want to think about Eso and Kechizu. God they probably scarfed the shit down while Yuji’s stomach fought for its life).

Though looking at the dessert he made…

Choso’s finger dug into your side, effectively cutting off any more mental insults you could throw at the food, and he poked you twice in the hip while latching onto your belt loop, “You’re just standing there staring at it.”

Well, what could you say? “I’m just in awe how you cooked something that looks so good.” Something along the lines of that would butter him up.

Choso sighed, “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” Or not.

You dared a glance at him, sucking in your lips at the dejected pout and longing gaze at the hockey pucks he created out of cookie dough, before relaxing your shoulder and leaning into him, “I mean it. Just a tad overdone –” he shot you a withering look, making you laugh sheepishly – “we can just throw it in the microwave to soften them up a bit.” You really didn’t want to lose any teeth, and Choso had such pretty ones you didn’t want him to lose those either.

The side-eye you were receiving was uncalled for in your opinion, and he was gazing at your face for a rather long time to gauge the expression (and see through your lies) on your face before he scowled and looked back at the mess. Part of you wanted to reassure him, knowing he really did try his hardest, but other part of you didn’t want to lie straight to his face and save yourselves both a future mess on your hands for lying. Honestly, it wasn’t a huge deal, but Choso also looked so sad… like a little baby panda sad…

You went to reassure him (truthfully that time), yet at that moment your boyfriend uncurled his fingers from your belt loop, took one of the hockey – cookies and promptly banged it against the counter in a sound so deafening it promptly stopped the words on your tongue as you both stared.

“…”

“…”

You both stood in silence for a moment, and then – “Wow, it’s so hard not a single crumb fell off.”

Choso sighed – again – and grumbled something under his breath while scratching the back of his head, “You hate it.”

Your eyebrows rose, fingers curling around his wrist to throw his arm over your shoulder as you fought off another laugh from his behavior, “I don’t hate it. It’s just… you burnt them.” Leaning further into him whenever Choso finally relaxed, you began to pull on his cheek and relish in the tint turning a charming shade of red, “Plus I think it’s sweet you wanted to make me cookies.”

He hummed, eyelashes fluttering and lips twitching as he avoided your eyes to showcase his embarrassment, “It’s been three months since we started dating.”

Your heart and stomach flipped timeously, still not used to Choso’s blunt attitude when it came to expressing parts of his feelings for you. He was still rather reserved in some instances, but more often did he leave you speechless when he decided to openly show his affection for you in ways that didn’t involve any physical intimacy. You couldn’t blame him for trying, but you did want to get away from the burnt cookie smell…

“So sentimental,” you teased, giving his cheek one more pinch before guiding him back to the couch where popcorn and a movie you had planned awaited, “Let’s just stick to this tonight. Maybe one day we can make cookies together… so they don’t burn.”

He answered you through a squeeze with his hand, following you dutifully and at ease from your suggestion. Though as you flicked through possible movies to watch, you couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“How did you forget they were in oven?”

“I don’t think I set the timer.”

“I mean it happens to all of us.”

“…They could be edible –”

“No.”

“No, I mean – I think Eso and Kechizu might eat them.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Though it’s a wonder how they’re still alive if you were cooking for them the entire time.”

“I can cook some things, even Yuji says so.”

“Yes, the Yuji who eats takeout almost every night. Imagine what’d he say if he saw –"

Choso’s fingers found your lips, pinching them together and effectively shutting you up as he decided on a movie himself and not having to hear your mouth.

[missingininaction]

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.

[aphroditelovesu]

Awake

❝commission: a oneshot that explores the relationship between y/n and some of the generals and or soldiers. I'm personally torn between a 'Cleitus wakes up' fic. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I can't tell if I find this cute or distressing, maybe both? I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🩶

❝tw: slight angst.

❝word count: 1,670.

It was noisy outside. The soldiers’ voices mingled in a hubbub of conversation, loud laughter, and the sound of clinking glasses; the celebration seemed to grow longer with each passing second, like a wave of rising energy. The tumult could be heard for miles around, for this was a night of celebration — a rare occasion in wartime when everyone had a common reason to celebrate.

Cleitus was alive. Against all odds, even after Alexander's merciless attack, the man had held on. Wounded and exhausted, he now lay in the shadows of the medical tent, the smell of medicinal herbs and aged fabrics permeating the heavy air. It was there, under the care of the King’s own trusted physician, under your care, that he was recovering, his body still vulnerable but his spirit preserved — and, even though unconscious, life pulsed faintly but presently through his veins.

And it was all thanks to you. No one understood exactly how it had happened; how, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, you had managed to save Cleitus. Murmurs of your daring and skill circulated among the soldiers and servants, shrouded in awe and distrust. But the fact was undeniable: he was alive, despite the dire predictions. Although he had not yet regained consciousness, the mere fact that he was breathing was cause enough for celebration.

But while the others celebrated, you remained motionless, sitting in the shadows of the tent, facing the cot where Cleitus rested. The darkness seemed to taper around you, filled only by the regular, fragile sound of his breathing. It was as if a current of anguish was rising through your body, slow and relentless, squeezing your heart with invisible fingers.

He was safe, yes. You had saved him and you knew it. But then, why was there that weight on your conscience, that nagging feeling that something terrible had been done? The memories of history hammered at your mind, insistent. From what you knew, Cleitus should have died at the hands of Alexander. His fate was death that night, a tragic and inevitable part of history. But now everything was changed. You had interfered, diverted the course of time — the natural balance of things had been disrupted.

And it wasn’t just any life you had spared. It was Cleitus, a man who, despite his outward toughness, carried an immense loyalty to the king and, in a way, to you as well. He had stood up for you, protecting you in a situation that would undoubtedly cost you dearly. For that reason, you simply couldn’t allow them to let him die. He was more than just a historical figure to you; he was someone you had learned to respect and consider a friend.

The dilemma seemed to pierce your soul. How could you allow history to take its course, letting someone who was important to you be killed in such a brutal and cruel way?

You couldn't.

It was strange to think about it: history itself had already begun to distort itself before you saved Cleitus, before each of your interventions. Alexander shouldn't have cared about you, much less "proposed" a union that would seal your presence with him forever. It was an unthinkable, dangerous idea that was already altering the course of things.

So where was the real weight of your guilt? Was there any point in questioning your interference now, when that whole era was far from how you knew it from the books? Perhaps Cleitus's destiny had already been changed from the first moment you arrived, from the first look Alexander had given you with an indomitable gleam in his eyes. Perhaps he was saved not only by your hands, but by a new destiny that both of you were creating every day.

Or perhaps it was the work of some sadistic god.

It was no secret that there were rumors in the camp. Whispers ran through the hallways of the tents, escaped from the campfires, were whispered among the soldiers, servants, and slaves. They admired what you had done. In their eyes, you were no longer a foreigner, a barbarian, who had appeared out of nowhere; you were the woman who had faced your own fate to save Cleitus. A feat worthy of honor, worthy of respect.

These men, so accustomed to the brutality of battle, who saw death as an inevitable companion, now looked at you with a mixture of awe and reverence. It was as if, in a single action, you had earned everyone's respect, an almost heroic figure to those who, not long ago, didn't even know your name.

But this admiration only deepened the knot in your chest. What they saw as heroism, you saw as a mistake, a misstep that could trigger unimaginable consequences.

"(Y/N)?" The hoarse, slurred voice cut through the silence, bringing you back to the present like a blow of reality. Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes widened as they fixed on Cleitus's figure.

He was awake.

Still pale and visibly weak, Cleitus half-opened his eyes with effort, blinking a few times as if trying to adjust to the soft light that filtered through the sides of the tent. There was a vague confusion in his gaze, a mixture of pain and astonishment. It was clear that he was still recovering, the features of his face carrying the exhaustion of someone who had fought between life and death.

For a moment, you stood paralyzed, unable to find words, while he tried to focus his vision on you. Each second seemed like an entire universe, filled with emotions that you could barely name.

"I..." Your mouth went dry and you shook your head. You didn’t know what to say, what to feel.

Cleitus, his expression grim, tried to stand up, but the movement made his entire body protest. A low groan escaped his lips, his face contorting as he pressed a hand to the wound. Still closed and bandaged, but far from healed, the pain was still a vivid reminder of the attack by the man he admired.

"Don't strain yourself, Cleitus." You murmured, almost without realizing it, instinctively reaching out to grab his shoulder and stop him from moving any further. Your touch seemed to calm him, and he relaxed back against the cot, the muscles in his face softening slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

Cleitus's dark eyes locked with yours, a silent, contemplative weight in his gaze. He sighed, a long, weary sound, as the fragments of the past rearranged themselves in his mind, forming the painful mosaic of that fateful night. The banquet, the laughter, the lively conversations, the rich and fragrant food, the unexpected announcement of the wedding... And then, the chaos. The violent attack, the betrayal that had almost cost him his life.

Cleitus frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in an expression of sincere concern as he studied your face. "Are you okay?" His voice, still weak, carried a concern that made him ignore his own pain for a moment. Even after everything he had suffered, there he was, worrying about you.

The question took you by surprise. He, who had almost lost his life, was there asking if you were okay. For a moment, you wanted to laugh, perhaps to ease the weight of the situation, but the sound got stuck in your throat.

"I..." You hesitated, trying to find an answer that didn’t sound absurd. It was a simple question, but it seemed to carry all the weight of the guilt and doubts that hammered in your mind. You had defied fate, broken the lines of what was supposed to happen and, in a way, you were feeling lost amidst the whirlwind of consequences. And now, with Cleitus looking directly into your eyes, this barrier of defense seemed increasingly fragile.

"I... Just wanted to make sure you were okay." You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at you for a few more moments, absorbing your words, and then nodded slightly, as if he understood something that not even you had fully understood.

Cleitus took your hand in his and squeezed it lightly, your fingers gently touching. Cleitus touch was warm and firm, despite the evident weakness. He wrapped his hand around yours, his fingers squeezing yours gently, almost reverently. The warmth that radiated from his touch seemed to dissolve, even if only for a brief moment, all the tension you had been carrying since that chaotic night.

Cleitus smiled, a genuine smile full of gratitude, which lit up your tired face, softening the lines of pain and fatigue. It was a smile that spoke more than any words could. He didn't need to know everything that moved you to thank him — all the fears, the doubts, and the guilt you still carried for having interfered.

"Thank you." He said, and that was enough.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, and you smiled back at him, feeling the tension slowly dissolve from your body. For the first time in so long, you felt light, a sense of peace and happiness nestling in your chest. Amidst the chaos, the battles, and the uncertainties of being lost in a time that wasn't yours, there was finally a safe haven.

"That's what friends are for, isn't it?" You murmured, your smile widening. The word seemed to vibrate with a special meaning, something rare and precious in that place. Friends.

Amidst a time full of uncertainty, distrust, and danger, you had found something as simple and profound as friendship. He smiled in response, and in that moment, all the confusion, the weight of decisions, and the uncertainties about the future seemed to disappear. Cleitus was more than a warrior or a character from a distant story; he was your friend, someone who cared, who had risked everything for you.

And now, in the midst of all this madness, you had done the same for him. And, you knew now, you would do it all again.

[solivagantingrebel]

Thinking about how... Ghost never felt wanted, appreciated or loved in his childhood home, about how he did his best to run away from those memories; erased them, removed himself and the people from the place, and kept his distance until it was refurbished. It was different by the time his brother inherited it, the colours were different, the furniture was different and some of the rooms were renovated to be indistinguishable from before.

Ghost's life was different too, he made sure of it.

There were moments, when he visited, where if he stood for a second longer, closed his eyes briefly — even for a breath —, he'd feel the familiarity of his past creeping in, haunting him. He'd remember how he couldn't relax in the living room, or in the hallways, or anywhere he wasn't allowed to close the door of, always anticipating those heavy footsteps and that terrible, sneering scoff before his days got worse in ways he couldn't anticipate. Blood, tears and sweat leaving scars underneath his skin, ones he could only fool himself to hide.

He felt a sense of dread whenever he visited — slept over —, remembering the moments in the kitchen when he went for a glass of water whenever he couldn't sleep, like his mother was right there with him, hunched over with whatever she could get her hands on, tears streaming and ignorant to the world until Ghost softly asked if she was alright. She'd have an awful, dead look in her eyes, any hope and light devoid before she properly focused on him, shaking her head and telling him to go back to bed.

He'd get himself the glass and feel the heavy weight of her gaze on the back of his head, and by the end of it, she would tuck him in; some semblance of normalcy lending itself so that he could go back to sleep. He still felt her gaze, sometimes, never realising that he might've saved his mother more than once by unintentionally waking up late until it was too late. His mum wasn't perfect, no one could be in their situation, but he could never fully blame her for what they all suffered.

It should've been something, seeing Johnny walk so freely through the house, following him like a lost dog would. His steps were Ghost's, a beacon for his wayward soul. Johnny didn't know the table he was leaning against was where he used to hide his brother when it got worse. The dining table was different back then, but the house was a witness to all those fights, its walls always large and silent to their protests. He didn't know how his father got away with it for so long. His memories were a mess, remembering only the worst of it while shrouding the rest — days, weeks, months and years melting into this concoction of experiences, never to see the light of day again.

Johnny didn't have it great either, he'd speak of his cousin, more highly than his mum and dad, leaving vague comments about disapproval and rejection and frustration and Ghost would nod along, because he understood. Parts of it, anyway, and while he might've not faced the same issues, he knew how it felt to be distanced from family to the point you'd have to drag yourself on your hands and knees to make sense of it. There wasn't a shot to down in the vicinity, nor a smoke to share, so Ghost settled for the next best thing; drowning himself in those ocean eyes completely fixated on him. It didn't matter what came out of his Sergeant's mouth, every word poured out of those pretty lips numbed the reopened wounds in his chest.

When Ghost cornered him against that table to kiss him, he didn't pull away. He rarely does, even in the moments he couldn't anticipate it, quick to melt once he knew it was Ghost and eager all the same.

"I'm gonna sell it," he says when they pull away.

The statement confuses Johnny - a sentiment Ghost shares for a second, before he realises why it was necessary.

"Ghost."

"I can't risk it."

I can't risk the same story repeating for us.

I can't risk losing more.

Ghost exhales, loud and ragged.

I can't risk losing you, he doesn't say. Instead, the silence fills the space in-between, the confession buried from the tip of his tongue down to the rotting confines of his heart. Johnny gets it. In his infinite patience for Ghost, he looks like he understands, and the familiar scrunch of his brows ease away as he nods and steps closer.

The touch on Ghost's waist is grounding, a silent, gentle permission for more, and he lets him. Johnny hugs him like he is trying to melt into him, share the warmth that overflows from his heart to fill Ghost's empty husk-like chest. He hugs him like there is nothing he'd rather be doing, seemingly content on standing there, holding him for hours on end if he needed to.

"Johnny."

Everything falls into place like it was always meant to. The torment of a life spent wanting, wishing and begging for more, quenched through the existence of one man alone.

"We'll get it sorted, Simon."

Ghost rarely believes in reassurances, promises that can't hold up in the face of a cruel, uncertain future, but he wants to try. If not for himself - he wants to try for Johnny.

"We always do."

He supposed they did.

As long as Johnny is willing to stay by his side, everything will be alright.

[stealingpotatoes]

Skywalkers apart au! It's so precious that Anakin gets to be a dad, a rebellion general Dad but he gets to be there for at least one of them and Padme survives and gets to be a mom and maybe someday they get to meet and it's so good.

Also the concept of General Skywalker of the Rebellion feels like it has so much potential cause he was such a big figure in the Clone Wars, he was the Hero, the General, he could probably get the various splinter rebel cells (they were very divided in the early Rebellion) to follow him by sheer reputation and charisma. Imagine Anakin being at Hoth, like the attack is going along the usual Imperial imminent victory and suddenly an AT-AT has been thrown clear across the landscape and an announcement sounds out "General Skywalker has entered the field" cue Rebel Counterattack due to morale boost and Imperial Panic.

What happened to the 501st here? Did he go to the Venator's crash site where Ahsoka was during Order 66 what did he think when he saw all the dead folks?

Fun thought, Starkiller being the apprentice in this AU, means that Sidious has probably been comparing him to Anakin (in part because he's bitter he didn't fall, in other part cause it's great for fueling the darkside) for years so the first time they face off he's gonna be full of spiteful hatred (all going according to plan) before Starkiller gets styled on by the Skywalker, cause Anakin isn't crippled by the suit and that means he's still massively powerful in the force and skilled in the blade (Vader was too, but less than a whole Anakin), I could see Anakin pulling a Lightside version of the Rogue One Hallway scene against Stormtroopers (or even inquisitors).

Rebel General Anakin Skywalker would be an Imperial Boogeyman.

Leia would probably appreciate it for a while but also she'd get a bit annoyed about her dad's reputation and "Legend" and the fact that she's probably got that entire thing to measure up to, making her more reckless or foolhardy. That's a big shadow to live under.

Padme on the other hand is probably in a very different situation reputation wise, she was the senator for the new Emperor's home planet, she's the old queen of naboo from the Trade Federation attack, she's a founding member of one of the oldest discrete rebellion cells but that still leaves some stigma. She's probably so very worried about Imperial surveilance on her or Luke or the rest of her family, and it doesn't help that the Inquistorious has probably been sniffing around for a while.

ok this is a veeeeery long ask so i'm gonna have a veeeery long answer which is gonna go under this readmore:

YES!! yes absolutely! tbh i decided a while back he never gets an official promotion to general, everyone just calls him General Skywalker for so long that it sticks loll. BUT YEAH I mean working with a Jedi is rare and awe-inspiring enough for any rebellion cell but working with the hero with no fear??? half the rebels are wondering if they can interrupt this mission to ask for his autograph

its extra funny bc for the first few years of the empire he's lowkey depressed and like agh i failed the order republic AND my family i'm a terrible horrible no good jedi who nearly turned to the dark side and while he's having this spiral there's some rebel standing next to him pointing and pogging

and yeah he's SO useful in big battles like that!! he's half a legend, half a ghost story, given most ppl think he died in the Purge but here he is, enacting justice on the empire!! tho he does struggle on quieter missions (which happen a lot more at first bc gotta hide from the empire) that you cant just blaze into. its a difficult shift to go from clone wars general skywalker to rebel general skywalker

yeah 501st same as canon ): but OHHH MY GOD yes thats SUCH A PERFECT IDEA, Anakin going with Rex and Ahsoka to the site and mourning them all (and probably going into another depression spiral lbr)

youre so right lollll obvs leia loves the one up she has in an argument of "well my dad's general skywalker, beat that" but as u say she absolutely wants to live up to that (+ is a very independent/stubborn person and would like Leia Skywalker, not just "General Skywalker's daughter" lol)

AND YEAH ABSOLUTELY Padmé and Anakin's roles in this au are both so interesting (is that egotistical to say) bc they're these upside down versions of their clone wars roles, both very loud people forced to quieten down and be Discreet about how they go abt helping ppl. Padmé is really struggling hiding so much (luke's force sensitivity, her rebel activities, all relations to anakin) and trying to protect Luke while helping the Rebellion WHILE trying not to seem suspicious. a lot on her plate -- only made worse by palpatine keeping a close-ish eye on her, and she can't tell why (is it bc of luke? the rebellion? anakin? or is it just his old favouritism or patriotism being VERY inconvenient??)

on the inquisitors, obvs you don't see a lot of them on coruscant -- but padmé's SO scared abt ppl (MAINLY SIDIOUS WHO, YA KNOW, TRIED TO TURN LUKE'S DAD SITH) finding out abt him and she hates that she's making him repress this part of himself but what choice does she have???

[renx01]

Betrayed - part 2

Part 1

Prompt: Your father is the head of a criminal enterprise, one which has come onto the kingsman’s radar. Galahad has the task to get closer to said head, so he starts dating you. After a lot of apprehension on your side, you finally let your walls be broken down by him. That is until you find out that he’s been using you all along. Pairing: Harry Hart x (GN!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: angst, manipulation, established relationship Word count: 2611

You sit there in silence, tears streaming down your face. ‘Harry.’ The whisper would be inaudible to anyone but him. ‘Do it. It’s what I deserve.’ His left hand moves to hold the gun in place as you try to pull it away. ‘No, Harry.’ Your voice comes out strained. ‘I love you.’ There’s a brief pause. ‘I betrayed you, can’t you see that?’

‘If you really had, you would’ve killed me already.’

His grip on the gun loosens as he puts his forehead to yours and looks you in the eye. ‘Dear, you know I can’t do that.’ He sighs. ‘Now please, shoot me or I’ll do it myself.’ Pain is all you see in his eyes. ‘Harry, I-’

As you’re about to say something to him, your door bursts open, a young guy pointing a gun at you. ‘Drop the gun or I’ll blow your head off!’ He shouts at you as he walks around the table, so you quickly let it fall to the ground. ‘Harry, you alright bruv?’ Harry looks terribly confused as he stands up.

‘What are you doing here Eggsy?’

‘Saving your arse, isn’t that obvious?’ He looks the man over for any wounds. ‘Glad to see you’re okay. Now what’re we doing about this person?’ You still sit there, kneeling on the ground as you look at Harry who is pinching the bridge of his nose. He was obviously annoyed that things didn’t go as he’d planned. Swiftly, he grabs his glasses and puts them back on, it is as if a switch was flipped inside him. ‘Eggsy, please stop pointing your gun at my fiancé.’ The boy’s mouth almost drops onto the floor. Ignoring the obvious shock, Harry continues speaking. ‘Merlin, I need you to arrange for these bodies to be taken away and this mess to be cleaned up.’ He turns to you, his emotions unreadable once again. ‘Love, please stand up. I suppose I have some explaining to do.’

Harry had led you to his office before sitting you down. Getting out some tissues, he slowly started cleaning the blood off your hands and arms. It was silent, with Harry only giving a few instructions when he needed you to do something. The silence itself was calm, yet the tension had not dissipated. You were stiff as a board while he couldn’t bear to look you in the face. When he had almost fully cleaned the blood from your hands and arms, he finally spoke. ‘I’m sorry it had to come to this darling.’ His hands squeeze yours. ‘I’d hoped I would have more time to explain everything to you. To live a relatively normal life with you for a bit longer.’ You pull one of your hands out of his grip and stroke his hair trying to comfort him. Looking at the situation, it is awful all around.

‘Harry.’

He finally looks at you and you slowly put your hand on his cheek. ‘Please, don’t leave me.’ You whisper. ‘My love, I would but-’ ‘Harry, I need you. Now more than ever.’ A tear slowly starts falling down your face, but he reaches up and wipes it away. ‘I’m not sure if I can, but I’ll do everything in my power to stay with and protect you. Even if I have to move heaven and earth.’ Slowly, he stands up. ‘I’ll be back momentarily.’ The emotion which had laced his voice moments before disappeared suddenly. ‘Promise me, Harry.’

‘I promise.’

Minutes, which feel like hours, pass before anyone joins you again. The room is silent and the papers which hang on its walls feel almost suffocating. Silently, you stand up and leave the chair which is stood behind Harry’s desk. You need answers. Despite having noticed odd behaviours before this evening, you hadn’t expected this. Him not explaining everything to you before leaving the room didn’t help with the doubt you felt. You start looking in his dressers and around his desk. Everything seems normal; that is until you accidentally hit a button on the corner of his desk. It moves like a handle, and you find it opens a section of his wall to reveal an entire arsenal of guns and other weapons. A small gasp escapes you. Gathering yourself once more, you approach it and examine the various weapons. The guns were pretty familiar to you, as they were similar to what you grew up around, just more advanced. The same goes for the knives, which look to be pretty standard. What confuses you, however, are the several umbrellas and glasses which are on display. You grab an umbrella, which looks to be the same as the ones Harry often carries on him. Twisting and turning it, it doesn’t look to be any different from a normal one, that is until you open it, revealing a shield-like structure which allows you to look through. Quickly, you close and put it back. You decide it’d be wiser to look at the things which do not appear to be a weapon, like the glasses. Again, they look to be pretty normal, and you supposed they couldn’t be too dangerous as Harry wore them on an almost daily basis. You put them on, expecting to see how awful his vision was. What you didn’t expect was for it to show you a live feed of wherever Harry was and whoever he looked to be talking to.

‘Harry, you can’t be serious bruv.’ The young man you’re seeing through the glasses says before a scottish voice from an unknown source joins in. ‘Galahad, I knew of this mission, what it entailed, and how long it’d been going on, but you cannae tell me that you’ve fallen in love with a target.’ There’s a silence and you hold your breath, waiting for his response. ‘But I did and here we are. I cannot leave them, they’re the only person that’s ever made me some sort of way. It’s either you allow me to stay with and marry them or I’ll leave kingsman and marry them anyway.’ His voice cracks. You see how his hands move to cover his eyes, followed by hearing soft muffled sounds. ‘Harry, it’ll be alright. Just take your time and explain everything to them.’ He doesn’t reply but the muffled sounds continue. This is a side you’d never seen of him and hoped to never see again. At least not in this way, where you couldn’t go and comfort him. Slowly, you pull off the glasses and put them back into their designated spot. ‘I don’t know what to do; how to feel.’ You whisper to yourself as you sit back down.

For about half an hour, you continue to sit there in silence before someone opens the door. It’s a bald gentleman wearing glasses. ‘Hello there. Harry’s asked me to come get you.’ His voice seems hesitant, but you recognise the tone and Scottish accent from when you were wearing Harry’s glasses. You stand up and silently follow him out of the office and into the dining room. ‘I’m Merlin, a colleague of Harry’s.’ He looks at you and smiles. ‘He’ll explain everything to you momentarily. He just had to get some clearance to be able to do so.’ Merlin stops in front of the door which leads into the living room. ‘He does love you, dearly. Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing all this.’ Immediately after telling you, he opens the door, motioning for you to walk in. When you do, he closes the door behind you, leaving you and Harry alone. ‘Sit down dear. We have much to discuss.’

The rest of that evening was spent with Harry, which was in fact his real name, talking and you listening to him. He explained that while he did initially approach you because of your ties to your father, but as he got to know you he slowly started falling. You had won him over with your personality and intellect, and slowly, he started to feel guilty. But, he had hope and wanted to spend his life with you, which had resulted in him asking for your hand in marriage, despite the rules the kingsman had concerning relationships. The subject of your father and his business was one he had wanted to discuss, but life had caught up and your father ended up catching him before he could talk to you about it. It was difficult and you weren’t certain how your relationship would progress, but you knew that the both of you would try to make it work. The following weeks and months were spent with Harry showing you around Kinsman and introducing you to his colleagues. Merlin and Eggsy, who you’d met before, were his closest colleagues and friends. They were very close and he seemed particularly fond of Eggsy. He acted almost protective over him, as if he were his own son. He also looked to be quite fond of the younger agent Lancelot, who had actually beaten Eggsy in the recruitment process. Eggsy was able to join Kingsman eventually, with Harry being the main reason for it, though he wouldn’t explain how. He had been quite convinced of the young man’s skills and pulled some strings behind the scenes to make it possible. One of the nights, the two of you stayed at Kingsman HQ a bit longer and had dinner with Merlin and Eggsy. ‘So… you and Harry are staying together?’ The younger man enquires awkwardly and Harry, who had been having a casual conversation with Merlin, turns to him. ‘Yes Eggsy, we’ve been working things out amongst ourselves and we’re quite happy together.’ His gaze turns to you and he smiles. ‘Though we did have some serious conversations about the implications of our relationship and how it originally began.’ You nod. ‘We are taking our time, but I’m quite positive we’ll get out of this even stronger.’ Harry squeezes your hand in response and leans towards your ear. ‘I would like to get married at some point relatively soon; at least if you’re comfortable with that.’ He whispers. It had been over half a year since the incident with your parents had happened and you’ve slowly been building up each other’s trust. The initial months had been very difficult, but you understood that the person you love had done it to protect himself and his relationship with you. ‘I’d like that, agent Galahad.’ As he leans in to kiss you, you’re interrupted by Merlin making a coughing noise. ‘Now you lovebirds, we’re still at the dinner table and you aren’t alone.’

That night, the two of you lay in bed together. ‘My love.’ Harry says as he rolls over and looks at you. ‘I was thinking. Why don’t we get married in a small, closed ceremony? Nothing too fancy, just us and our closest friends.’ He pushes your hair out of your face. ‘Then run off to a far-away destination for a couple of weeks.’ You lean your forehead against his. ‘That actually sounds wonderful.’ The two of you kiss momentarily. ‘When?’ The smile on your face is positively mischievous. ‘How about next month? With how things are going, I should be able to get a few weeks off.’ ‘Sounds wonderful, mister Hart.’ He whispers in your ear before kissing you passionately. ‘I’ll talk to Merlin about it dear.’ So, he did. The following day he talked to Merlin and arranged for him to have some time off. Apparently, this was the first time in just over 10 years that he’s taken time off from Kingsman, so they were quite happy to oblige, especially since they have Eggsy to fill in for him during that time. You were quite surprised by that, while you knew he really loves his job, you didn’t know he was this committed. He had told you that he was in his early twenties when he had joined the organisation and the last time he’d taken some time off was when he’d caught the flu, about 5 years into having the job. With you in your early thirties, you couldn’t imagine not having had a proper holiday for so long. Despite this, he decided that he should be able to take time off for about a month and started organising your honeymoon, the destination of which remained a surprise to you on Harry’s insistence.

The day of your wedding had approached quickly. Despite only doing a civil ceremony, it was quite the celebration. Most of Harry’s colleagues and your friends had joined you for it, heading to the Kingsman estate for a small party afterwards. Now, you’re sitting at a table with your husband next to you holding your hand. Next to him sit Merlin and Eggsy, while your best friend and grandmother sit besides you. The rest of the room is filled with other friends, acquaintances, and a few family members who are sitting around several tables and talking amongst themselves. Your attention is diverted from Harry by someone tapping their glass with a spoon, something people usually do when they want to do a speech. It’s Eggsy, who looks quite nervous. ‘Excuse me.’ He hesitates momentarily before continuing. ‘I’d like to make a speech.’ He smiles at Harry. ‘I want to start off by saying that I am very happy for Harry. Over the past few years he’s helped me become a much better version of myself and I would like to thank him for that. However, that isn’t why we are gathered here today. My mentor has decided to marry his partner, which I am delighted about. Ever since they’ve been together, Harry has seemed more energetic and happier than ever before.’ He turns to you. ‘I want to thank you for being there for Harry, even in the darkest of times for the both of you, and for making him a better man.’ Eggsy sits back down quietly. The rest of the evening was spent listening to a few more speeches, followed by a relatively calm party where you and Harry talked, danced, and drank, like a lot. Towards the end of it, as the guests continued to drink and party, the two of you snuck off to your room. The night was still young and together you spent most of it enjoying it as a newly wed couple.

The following afternoon Harry took you to a small airport and Merlin was there, ready to fly you to wherever you were going. He greeted you with a smirk as Harry took your luggage up the stairs. Again, you had no clue where you were heading, but you trusted your husband. You decided to read a book while on the flight. It was quiet, but the silence was comfortable, you and your other half sitting next to each other. His hand rests on your knee while he himself reads the paper. The remainder of the, seemingly short, flight was spent in this manner. ‘Dearest,’ he pauses, ‘please close your eyes.’ You do and he leads you outside, the warm air hitting your face. ‘Now, where do you suppose we are?’ The air felt familiar, as if you’d been there many times. ‘Italy?’ You ask and he tells you to open your eyes. You recognise the airport quickly and you turn to him. ‘Tuscany, that’s lovely dear.’ ‘I’m glad you’re excited.’ He leans down to kiss you. ‘I arranged with your grandparents that we can stay in their estate for a week before we start travelling around.’ His hand, which is placed on your lower back, slowly pushes you towards the car which stands at the ready.

Taglist: @hereforthefandoms12

[magicbystarlight]

Venomous - Part Ten

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage, age gap relationship, misogyny, terrible parenting, war, jealousy, small injury. Minors DNI.

If you could Apparate, you’d have done it at that moment. Not even the fear of Splinching or censure from the Ministry would have stopped you. The only thing that did stop you from going was the shock of feeling a deep crack running along the length of your wand.

McLaggen was the one who finally stepped forward to disappear the unsightly mess as you stared stupidly with a hand in your pocket. He sat down the bottles to squat in front of you and, like earlier, reached out his hand. Not to check your forehead this time, but to use his sleeve to wipe at the corners of your mouth. "That happens sometimes with the fainting." He smiled in a way that tried to seem encouraging. “Completely normal.”

That seemed to snap Abraxas out of his disgusted haze. His wand, sleek unblemished hazel, was at McLaggen’s chest causing him to stumble over. He hissed, “Keep your filthy, Muggle loving hands off my fiancée,” venomously.

“Someone had to check on her,” McLaggen spit back, pushing the wand away to stand. “If you hadn’t been more concerned with your shoes—”

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll—”

“Oh, I’m quaking in—”

“Stop it!” Larissa stepped between them, uncharacteristic fury in her voice.

Abigail helped you stand, her arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “She’s been through enough, she doesn’t need the two of you getting into some pissing match in the middle of Diagon Alley!”

They looked as if they were going to continue, but then seemed to finally take in the people milling about and watching. McLaggen took a step back, clearing his throat, running a hand through his hair, and muttering a quick apology. 

Abraxas tucked his wand away and mimicked the apology. “Let me take you home, have a Healer come check you out.”

Abigail, with an uneasy glance at you, said, "She should have a drink first. She’s gotta get something in her stomach or she could faint again."

"I’ll call on a Healer," Abraxas repeated in a dismissive tone.

With her lips set in a grim line, Larissa turned her back on him, picked up a bottle, and popped off its top. "Drink one of these, okay?" She held it out to you before adding, "Please," in a softer voice.

You downed it without complaint. And then, as if the past twenty odd minutes hadn't been humiliating enough, burped. "Merlin, I'm sorry!"

“Nothing to be sorry about, love.”

“Ralph!” Larrisa sounded murderous.

Abraxas looked murderous.

—

It had been an awful evening. The Healer came and blamed the fainting spell on menstruation. You had to bite your tongue as the idiot explained how fragile the fairer sex was. It was better than explaining the truth. And when he was gone, you sat with the taste of copper lingering on your tongue as Hestia and Sixtus Malfoy made contemptuous remarks about poor health and its effects on childbearing. Abraxas said nothing, he barely even looked at you.

The relief as you finally sank into the bed was beyond words. Your body ached in ways you hadn’t felt since the days after flying lessons in First Year. The relief, however, didn’t extend beyond the physical discomforts.

War. It was still raging on around you and you hadn’t even known. Why? It’s not like you were uninformed. You read the every morning and evening edition of the paper. There should be some talk of it, but it was only ever mentioned when Grindlewald used the Muggle war to cover his own. And those instances were few and far between.

Why would they want to keep the community ignorant on something so critical?

It wasn’t something you could find the answers too stuck in Malfoy Manor and you were sure your mother wouldn’t let you out again. So you turned your attention to a more immediate situation. Hesitantly, you pulled your wand from your pocket. Frayed green hairs poked out from the split in the walnut wood. 

Your wrist flicked, other hand extended to catch the quill from the desk you summoned. Nothing came. Another flick. Another empty hand. “Accio,” you whispered. 

A hiss of pain escaped as the end of the quill embedded its tip into your palm and the wand slipped to the bed. You sat up, dropping the wand and pulling out the quill. Blood blackened from ink seeped slowly from the wound left behind.

“It was an accident, you know? I didn’t mean to crack you,” you said to the stick now laying listlessly on the bed. It still worked, at least. Resistant, angry even, but hopefully with time it would return to normal. You didn’t have to replace it. Wands broke all the time, yes, but this was your wand. It had chosen you. Discarding it would be an amputation.

For the moment, though, you feared if you tried anything more it would snap in half. Or retaliate. Even now, lying still, it seemed to protest at the mere thought of magic. You wouldn’t push it further tonight.

A knock on the door had you stuffing the wand under a pillow and wiping away the blood on a scarf.

You'd expected your mother to be there, ready to reprimand you for your unsightly display in Diagon Alley or for not trying harder with the Malfoys. But it was Abraxas who opened the door.

“Can I come in?” he asked, holding a bulging sweets bag up as a bribe. He made sure the door clicked shut behind him at your nod. The bed dipped as he sat on the edge, leaving only an inch between your crossed legs and his thigh. He didn’t say anything, his attention focused on rummaging through the sweets until he pulled out a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and held it out to you. “Hope they’re still your favorite.”

You took them. Mother never let you have them growing up, but he’d bring you a box whenever he visited Rick. “No one says no to a Malfoy,” he’d whispered to you the first time he handed them over in front of her. And that one year you overlapped in school, the two would always bring you back a bag of sweets from their Hogsmeade trips.

“They are.” You peeled the box open and popped one into your mouth. The taste assaulted your tongue, pinching your face at the foulness. Nothing, it seemed, would go your way. “Rotten egg.”

“And that,” he laughed, unwrapping a chocolate cauldron, “is why I prefer these.”

You shook your head. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” The next bean wasn’t as bad. Mashed potatoes.

“Far, far away from my tastebuds.”

Silence lapsed as he chewed. The sight was reminiscent of dinner. You focused on the box, a nail digging into the corner of the flap. It split easily under the pressure.

“Little Bird?” His hand reached out and rested firmly on your knee. “How are you feeling?”

You tugged at the edges of the split. Some honesty was needed. “Overwhelmed. It’s been a lot lately.”

He let out a breath. “Our engagement?” 

The hurt in his voice had your head snapping up. “No,” you were quick to say, dropping the box to grasp his hand. “Well, yes,” you corrected. Some honesty. “But it’s not you or us, it’s—it’s everyone else.” Your mother, his parents, Rick, The Daily Prophet, classmates, Velena Fawley, Cantankerus Nott, McLaggen, Azar. Tom. This ring wouldn’t chafe as much if everyone else would stop twisting it. “And everything else around it. I still have N.E.W.T.s to study for in between trying to plan the wedding.”

He shifted closer. “We could always forgo all of it.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek. “We can go to the Ministry tomorrow.” He kissed the other. “The honeymoon would have to wait, but we’d still have two nights as man and wife before you’re back to school.” His hands trapped your face and then his lips were on yours.

Would a kiss ever not taste like manipulation?

“Brax,” you protested against the kiss, pushing softly on his chest. “We can’t.”

“Can’t we?” It didn’t deter him, just encouraged his lips to trail down to your neck. “No need to plan a wedding if you’re already Mrs. Malfoy.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of his robes. Child bride. A witch with someone else's name. Not yet. It was too soon. Say something. Say anything. “I want a real wedding.”

“We can have a reception over Easter.”

“I want a wedding with our families and friends there, with Rick there. I want the white dress, the beautiful venue, all of it.”

“We could still—”

“No.”

He finally pulled away, the bluntness seeming to catch him off guard. Or maybe it was the word itself that staggered him. No one says no to a Malfoy.

“Is it because of McLaggen? Do you still have feelings for him?”

Resentment burned on your tongue. “I never had feelings for him.”

“Didn’t seem like that today. He was very comfortable touching you.”

“There seems to be an ongoing theme with people not respecting my nos.”`

He had the decency to look guilty. 

“I don’t know what you heard about me and him, but don’t believe any of it.”

“And what of what I heard about you and Tom Riddle?”

Your stomach dropped. Of course he’d heard the rumors that had swirled before your engagement. It was a wonder he’d never mentioned them before. “Riddle has a staring problem.”

Abraxas was silent for a beat longer, watching your controlled expression for a crack. Your mother had trained you too well for that to happen. A small, apologetic smile broke across his face. “I suppose I can’t fault him for that.” He heaved a sigh, taking your hand again. “It’s difficult not to be jealous when I have something everyone wants. I’m afraid one day someone will steal you away.”You know the words you need to say. You know the compassionate wonder you need to school your expression into. You know that you’re going to have to kiss him again. You know you don’t have the choice to walk away. You know it could be worse. “I love you, Brax. You’re the only one I want.”

Next

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc

Venomous Tag List: @pearlsofme @fck-this @ambria @sheeple @strangunddurm @weirdowithnobeardo @emberenchanted @iluvweasleys

[pagannatural]

2.12 Night Shifter

-Although Dean is impersonating an FBI officer when the jewelry counter girl asks him what it’s like, his answer is a truthful description of his life: “it’s dangerous, and the secrets we gotta keep…but mostly it’s lonely.” This wouldn’t be anything wincest except that he looks guiltily over at Sam twice while getting her number. The theme of loneliness between them and the brothers’ yearning for closeness from each other has come up several times this season, most obviously from Sam needing Dean to open up to him. But Dean is feeling it too. Sam was hanging off of him drunk last episode and Dean walked away from him so it makes sense that he’s trying to get someone else in his bed, and clearly thinking about Sam while he does it.

-Sam lies to Ronald. In the past he’s been the one who wants to tell civs the truth, while Dean lies. Dean’s instincts appear to be right here, and Sam’s sour impression with Ronald becomes an obstacle moving forward in this episode. It serves to highlight that Sam is still just not as experienced at this. They’re both really good with people and have high interpersonal intelligence, just in different ways.

-Dean feels “naked” without weapons. He’s been living in fear since he was four so that makes sense but it’s so bleak.

-Dean takes control of the situation with Ronald and Sam looks scared for him, then miserable when he’s locked in the vault and separated from Dean.

One of the bank employees asks “who is that man?” and Sam says “he’s my brother” as if that answers her question even a little bit. She wistfully says he’s brave and Sam looks even more miserable. He’s so sick of women fawning over his brother.

-a second scene of this woman fawning over Dean at Sam! I could watch this all day. Sam becomes increasingly perturbed with each passing moment. Listening to someone wax on about the person you’re secretly and wretchedly in love with but can’t have is terrible but especially when it’s someone who doesn’t even know them. He looks like he’s holding back on an emotion. Sam could just be irritated by the way Dean is overshadowing him, but I would expect him to respond by rolling his eyes or looking irritated rather than conflicted and sad.

Sam looks up to Dean. He doesn’t admit it until later on in the series, but Dean is his hero. His hero and guardian and brother and the only one who can kill him.

-Sam bumps his shoulder against Dean’s on his way out of the bank vault. He didn’t need to do that, there was space. People like to accidentally touch their crushes. And right in front of the fawning woman, like a cat rubbing its cheeks against its human’s legs to mark him.

-Sam points out that Dean is wanted by the police and is visibly upset. I love that Sam is the one panicking about this. Dean is too but he’s trying to be brave and save face for Sam.

-oh this is where they walk up to each other like they’re going to kiss. They’re making eye contact as they get really close and Sam kind of half circles Dean, looking into his eyes. It has the same vibes as the scene from Silver Linings Playbook where the love interest is teaching the main character a dance and instructs him on how to walk to her like he’s in love with her. You can see Dean moving his lips telling Sam he knows who the shifter is, but no sound, making this moment feel even more private

-the way Hendrickson says “there’s a monster in the bank” and then it cuts to Sam gives me chills

-Hendrickson mentioning that Sam is “the bonnie to your Clyde” makes Dean smirk. Sam is his wife. “That part’s true”. They could’ve said the butch cassidy to your Sundance or something but they went with a romantic couple and had Dean smile like aw yeah, that’s us, like he’s still so happy to have his baby back with him on the road.

-“they’re dangerous, smart, and expertly trained” god they really ARE. This show really earns their reputation.

-Dean is mid-action bringing a knife down on what he thinks is the shifter when Sam says in a near-whisper “Dean waitwaitwait”and Dean pauses to look over his shoulder. He’ll do anything Sam says. Sam’s gentle protest is more important than killing the shifter.

-Sam fights the swat team duo and wins. They escape and drive away knowing that they’re fucked and being hunted by the FBI. Their ascension from petty criminals to most wanted outlaws is so good because they are dangerous and fucked up and doomed and yet they’re together. I also love that Sam solved Dean’s problem by getting the uniforms and gear off of the two SWAT guys. He’s protective of Dean.

[raayllum]

I think sometimes the way I approach fic / meta writing / analysis stems from how I character build and write my OG stuff as well, because while the classical writing advice is about asking "what does your character want?" I've always found it most useful to ask "What does your character want, and what are they willing to justify to get it?"

(Asking how they justify their actions is also incredibly useful but more on that later.)

For example, when ('good') characters are under stressful situations and respond well regardless, we take that as being indicative of who they Truly Are—heroic, helpful, selfless, often even compassionate, etc, and when antagonists behave that way, we dismiss it as just glory hounding or being selfish, when it can Be multiple things at once.

When ('bad') characters respond poorly to stressful situations—threatening harm, using dark magic to saved loved ones, being angry and cold hearted—we take that as who they are, and when it's the protags, we say they're stressed or coerced or any number of things... that are true for the antags often, too! And still true even if you don't like them or have as much compassion towards them.

But unfortunately sometimes people are rarely inclined to do the opposite. They're rarely inclined to take antagonists' good moments as honest statements of their character because "well they're mean/evil" and often dismiss protagonists' complicated or less than stellar choices because "well they're good and they feel bad" (Viren saying he'll never forgive himself for the things he's done even when they saved his son, and Claudia crying over what she's done to save her father? yeah those scenes don't exist anymore sorry).

The fact of the matter is that, at least in TDP and in many other works (including my own), actual antagonists are not always evil and awful and morally bankrupt 100% of the time, and actual protagonists are not always perfect or good or making the right choice (because sometimes there isn't one, tbh).

Who your character is at their best and their worst, regardless of circumstance, is ALL of who they are. It all has to be taken into account. No cherry picking. Rayla can be selfish and dismissive and a liar who routinely fails at whatever she sets out to do and is awful at communicating, and Viren can love his kingdom and his family and genuinely believe that's what he's doing everything for, and neither encompasses their whole character. A perfect example is Claudia, who we cheer for when she chooses Soren over the world-saving mission of the egg in 2x07, and despair at when she chooses Viren over the world-saving mission of maybe not freeing the dangerous imprisoned Startouch elf in S4 and S5. Same principle, character, motivation, different circumstance, but we're happy about Soren (because he's not Viren) and bummed about Viren (because he's not Soren), and because character traits are consistent, and whether those traits are good or bad is inherently circumstantial. Claudia's loyalty can be great, and it can be a terrible, awful justification. Both of those things are true.

To be clear, this isn't to argue for false equivalency: Viren and Claudia and other antagonists are far more often Wrong than the protagonists are, and the protagonists are routinely more Right than our two favourite dark mages are. TDP likes its complications and circumstantial stuff, but there's still some things that are Bad No Matter What (like gaslighting your child, or routine dehumanization). And some of our associations are because antagonistic characters tend to be routinely cruel and mean, which are part of the horrible things they do, and protagonist characters are routinely kinder and more compassionate to the people around them, and protecting each other / innocent people is part of what makes them a good person, but... There's no inherent difference between a lot (not all, but some) of the actions the characters across the board take, particularly in arc 2, just their perspective and who we're personally more attached to and thereby more willing to justify their decisions surrounding.

Like idk my main WIP protag buries people alive en masse and tortures someone vindictively because they killed her friend and I'd still classify her as a Good Person (fictionally), and it's just always wild to me when people don't take All Parts and Choices and Relationships of a character into account especially because TDP spells it out for us over and over that we Should with quite literally every single character, whether those actions are good or bad:

Once again I am asking for encompassing wholes and character nuances where the only time a character should be like "well it's totally fine that you did a Thing actually" (Rayla towards Callum's dark magic use or Callum towards Rayla lying to/stealing from him) or "totally not okay that you did a thing" (Runaan about Rayla sparing Marcos, or Claudia doing dark magic) is taken as an aspect of Character Bias, not a definitive Narrative get off the hook slant or condemnation, because neither of those things Get us anywhere in a writing or analytical sense thank you

[sirfrogsworth]

My heart breaks for Dianna. She is one of my favorite science communicators and she has one of the most tragic cases of Long Covid I have seen.

It is rare I find someone suffering from fatigue that eclipses my own. I've definitely been in a similar state and it is so scary and miserable and awful. And she just can't seem to pull herself out of it.

I don't know if people know this, but being that exhausted and tired actually *physically* hurts. It doesn't feel exactly like ouchy pain, but it is just as profound at its worst.

Basically her cells are starving for energy. I like to describe the feeling as if every cell in your body is screaming for sustenance all at once. You can literally feel that in every part of your body, from the inside out. And the longer you go without energy replenishment, the more intense that screaming becomes.

I'm so angry that people ignore the possibility of Long Covid and choose to not vaccinate, mask, etc. These folks are just waiting to get infected because they want that sweet natural immunity. But here is a young, healthy woman without comorbidities who is now fighting a terrible case of Long Covid because she was infected before the vaccines were available.

Anyone could be in her situation. You just have no way of knowing.

Please get your boosters and wear a mask.

This isn't over no matter what people say.

[anna-scribbles]

can you share some of your writing/planning process for thirteen? i adore the non-linear format - how do you decide what scenes to put where?

ahh thank you!! idk how much of a defined process I have, but there's definitely a lot of planning that goes into it and i can show you some of that.

i keep all the chapters in one doc organized by month, and then i plan everything out in bullet points in a timeline at the beginning. here i just have october and november as examples bc after december things started to get more detailed/messy

all of the scenes (especially at the beginning) set the stage for things i’ve planned to happen later, or establish something that feels relevant to adrien’s character by the time we meet him in canon. the task of condensing an entire month into about 2-3 scenes has been a bit difficult; i’ve found out that i’m a very present-moment kind of writer so it’s harder for me to describe the passage of, like, weeks of time. so i’ve been pinpointing specific threads of adrien’s story that i want to be sure to tell and choosing scenes from each month that build on that.

i’ve had the idea for this fic in the back of my mind since about 2021 so i’ve had several scenes cemented in my mind, ways i’ve decided things played out, etc. some of the writing process has been building the narrative around those things or figuring out how we get there. that’s what i love about prequels in general, honestly - it’s inevitable where we’re going to end up, but how do we get there?

adrien’s situation, at the moment we meet him in origins, is SO endlessly fascinating to me. he is in the process of doing something reckless and rebellious and bold - running away - against the will of his father, a man he spends the rest of the series struggling with his compulsion to submit to. we find out, via the rest of the show, exactly how difficult it is for adrien to stand up to his father. and yet, in his very first appearance, adrien is running away from him.

how did he get here? what, exactly, pushed him to this point? was this the final escalation of a steady build of rebellious behaviors, or an impulsive breakthrough after one awful day too many? what has this small boy been through in the last year, and why does public school seem to be his only fathomable escape?

and WHY, if his circumstances are so dire as to compell him to rebel so boldly in the first place, does he still throw it away to help the old man in the road? what makes him so kind, when he has everything to lose? what happened? how did he get here?

i’m interested, obviously, in the character of émilie. i think that the hole she leaves in the narrative is a compelling silhouette and i’ve been having a blast trying to pencil in its details. it’s obvious that adrien loved her deeply and had a stronger connection to her than with gabriel. but also, adrien was still shut off from the world while she was alive. he was still, presumably, an exploited child star while she was alive. she was an actress and a mother and died by broken magic and never told her son the truth about any of it. figuring out who i think she was and then how to show that through young adrien’s eyes has been a huge part of planning this story for me.

as far as the twenty three year old adrien sections, those have been less involved as far as planning goes. i only recently mapped out which areas of the house i want him to visit during the different months. i wanted his sections to line up at least thematically, if not physically, where thirteen year old adrien is at in his story. for example, in december twenty three year old adrien cleans out the dining room where thirteen year old adrien was having terrible christmas dinner. and in january they’re both in the garden, etc.

it’s a bit harder to map out twenty three adrien just because it has to also make sense geographically - i can’t have him running back and forth up and down the stairs, let’s be real he doesn’t have the energy for that. i’ve also opened up the agreste mansion page on the miraculous wiki so many times while trying to map this out 💔💔 did you know that apparently there’s a third floor we never see in the show. yeah i have to figure out what to do with that now

ANYWAY long story short: the planning process for thirteen is kind of a mess, but the whole story is built around some central plot points that i knew i wanted to hit from the beginning. the details change a lot (as you can see from the outline above - it’s not quite right) but i keep the end in mind. just have to figure out how we get there.

thank you for asking!! mwah<3

[luxury-nightmare]

inspired by nerdymixedpan on tiktok

Ranking Magnus fears by How likely I am to serve them/how freaked out I am by them (including the Extinction because I will never forget about my underrated king)

1, The Eye

How freaked out am I by it? 3/10. My sister will come barging into my room uninvited anyway so the fear of being watched doesn’t really freak me out.

How likely am I to serve it?

7/10. I listened to 200 episodes of gay people suffering. What do you think

2, The Lonely

5/10 the person who I took this idea from said it best. This is schrodinger's fear. Cause on one hand, I like being alone. I spend most of my time huddled up in my room. But on the other hand, the enjoyment mostly comes from being awful at social situations and accidentally hurting peoples feelings when I talk to them

8/10 I said it already. I already isolate myself give me the banish powers. Gentle voiced old man I’m coming for your crown.

3, The Spiral

5/10 not exactly. Honestly the thought of me being crazy is probably not my greatest fear, it’s more the system for mentally ill people. I once let a couple things slip and was taken to a mental hospital, and the only thing I could think is “is there something wrong with me?” which, in my humble opinion, is not something someone struggling with mental illness should be thinking in a place that’s supposed to help them

5/10 would I be a good spiral avatar? No. Would I leap at the chance? Absolutely. I wanna see door wife and fuckhands mcmike

4, The Stranger

6/10 I do not fuck with uncanny valley shit. 4/10 I am a theater kid, so this could be right up my alley, but all the avatars are glorified theater kids so I think I’ll pass

5, The Desolation

2/10 I was scared of fire as a kid, but that’s the extent of my fear towards it.

4/10 Fire is pretty, I like setting things on fire, and Agnes is hot (pun intended) but that’s pretty much it

6, The Corruption

5/10 sickness and illness freak me out, but I’m chill with bugs. 2/10 no

7, The Vast

6/10 I went through a huge nihilism phase in middle school so that would factor into it. Honestly having an astronomy class is not going to help with this. But lately it’s less “nothing matters” and more “nothing matters so you can fuck up as much as you need”

8/10 enjoy sky blue motherfuckers!

8, The Buried

6/10 honestly this is a new one. I like to be in small spaces, but I cannot handle caves. I think I can blame Pastra’s Ted the caver video and the lost johns cave episode for this. But also, if we think about The Buried as The Vast opposite and pulled from its more metaphorical aspects (I know the show doesn’t do this very often but bear with me) the fear that everyone depends on you and if you fuck up even slightly everyone will hate you forever? Yeah that’s me

4/10 has we ever met a buried avatar? I have no point of reference. Four out of ten

9, The Web

4/10 this is a tricky one. I’m chill with spiders but the manipulation part for me comes not from the fear that I’m being manipulated, more the fear that I’m being manipulative. That I’m tricking people into caring about me and doing what I want when I really just need to tough it out (would this feed into The Spiral? Not really, right?)

7/10 Spiders, killer aesthetic, breaking the fourth wall. Let me in.

10, The Flesh

9/10 no. No no. No no. No gross. Gross gross gross. Have you seen the episode where the guy hammers all the meat to his apartment and it’s starts to rot through the ceiling? Gross get it away from me.

0/10 no Jared I am not joining your cottagecore lesbian garden leave me alone

11, The Hunt

2/10 I feel like this one should freak me out more than it does. I live in the mountains, surrounded by wild animals, and I have terrible stamina. But honestly? It’s like Jon said. It’s natural. If I don’t bother them they don’t bother me.

3/10 I have terrible stamina. I would make a terrible hunt avatar

12, The Slaughter

5/10 I have strong feelings about war. But there less fear and more disgust, anger, and sadness.

2/10 although it would be nice to go apeshit once and a while, this is a hard no.

13, The Dark

1/10 dude I vibe with the dark. It doesn’t freak me out at all.

9/10 I am practically nocturnal. My sona is the embodiment of darkness incarnate. Hard yes. Give me the shadow powers

14, The End

6/10 honestly this feat comes from less from death itself and more what comes after, and my family’s reaction. The idea of nonexistence is terrifying and maybe there’s something worse. I watched a Scp video, I forgot the specific number, but it was an idea of what happens after death. Essentially, you stay conscious, but you cannot move, trapped in your own body feeling every slow pain of rot or cremation as your atoms split apart over millennium. So yeah, death itself is fine but everything after is scary

8/10 I’ve always had a fascination with death, not actual people dying, but the pomp and glamour we give death. Graveyards and funerals and death gods and all that jazz. Gothic stuff. Also The End is technically the only fear that can win in the long run. The End will come for us all.

15, The Extinction

7/10 Watch the news and you’ll understand what i mean. I was like 5 when I first learned about climate change and I promptly put that in a box in the back of my brain and tried to forget it ever existed.

10/10 dude this isn’t even about the killer aesthetic, this is just cause it’s criminally underrated. Extinction my fear I will be your avatar since no one else will be. Also dude it would be so easy, just send some random people inflammatory news articles, push some people into a hell dimension, and you’re done! Also if any of the other fears complete a ritual, that’s a whole ass free buffet!

TL:DR: Extinction is underrated and Hello jon. apologies for the deception, but i wanted to make sure you started reading, so i thought it best not to announce myself. I'm assuming youre alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldnt try to stop reading; there's every likelihood you'll just hurt your self. So just listen. Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 18

oh no depending on what exactly the Angel’s motivations and allegiances are this conversation between her and Camilla could go very differently. and oooh i don’t know if its mentioned before but is Cam wearing her sunglasses in this scene, because i wonder if Cam tripping into the Angel is actually Palamedes doing his whole psychometry thing 

and it is Palamedes!! whaaat the fuck is he doing talking to Angel about necromancy, i really hope he has some kind of plan right now

and also something strange is up with Noodle, is he like trained to detect necromancers or something? i really hope Noodle doesn’t start hating Nona at some point, that would be horrifically sad 

and there’s some discussion of a mysterious implant that the Angel has in her body, one that Palamedes is very invested in knowing about … no clue whats going on there. some kind of BoE military information maybe??

i’m very glad that Palamedes is acknowledging that Nona is perfectly capable of making her own decisions here 

‘you became my enemy in the last five minutes’ and now this situation just went from bad to worse, of everything i thought that these guys had to worry about it wasn’t Nona’s school-teacher throwing hands with them

ohhh fuck Nona’s whole ‘popping’ bad headache is her getting shot in the head, isn’t it

and all that mentioned inter-organisational conflict within BoE is finally rearing its head. ngl i think i understand whats going on with the protocol and internal conflicts of BoE even less than i did the necromancy in GtN. and apparently no-one in BoE can communicate, given they had no idea that an integral part of their Lyctor project was being taught by another very important member of their organisation. also a very small detail, but confirmation that the Building is actually some kind of BoE safe house 

and thank god that Cam and Pal also aren’t actually dead, this chapter is giving me a fucking heart attack

oh damn i was not expecting someone with the name ‘Our Lady of the Passion’ to look cool

omfg i cannot believe that BoE thought that Nona’s truly terrible pretend radio call was real

also i totally forgot Hot Sauce basically disappeared after Nona got shot. either she’s dead or she’s got to have realised about Nona, and i don’t know which one is going to hurt more 

‘Nona vaguely made a note to practise scowling, and also dye her hair’ focusing on women they’re attracted to in the worse possible situations, Nona your inner Gideon is showing. also in the vein of every teenagers existential crisis, Nona wants to change up her hair 

Nona going to find Hot Sauce through the building, and them just holding eachother through the gunfire, is probably the tensest/most horror-like passage i think there’s been since GtN. 

and the worrying description of Hot Sauce drawing her gun seems to be coming very soon. there’s really a lot of emphasis on it in this passage, and i have a bad feeling Hot Sauce is going to shoot Nona 

‘Nona was sorry for the bean experiment’ rip the bean experiments, we hardly knew ye 

and there it is, Hot Sauce shooting Nona dead in the temple. poor Nona’s getting shot an awful lot today. even though Nona’s obviously going to be okay physically, on an emotional level i really don’t think their relationship can come back from this

[witch-oftheflowers]

Anna~

The little bundle and surprise.

Simon Riley x Ximena Lopez

(Pre-Ghost and after Ghost fic!)

AN: I'm so excited for this series I'll do of the babies. Just know they'll be long like this one. But please enjoy!

TW: Mention of deaths and Simons backstory thats just traumatizing on its own.

MasterList

The morning was cold. Base was quiet for the most part, which was rare. But it was 3am.

And all Ximena could feel and heard was the sound of her own hurling into the toilet.

Her long curly hair, which she washed the day before. Was sticking to her sweaty face. She felt awful, terrible, sickly beyond care.

She brushed her hair back as she pulled away from the bowl. Her eyes flutter shut as she was thinking. Why was she sick? She couldn't be this sick? This wasn't food poisoning, it wouldn't last weeks-

She felt a pang in her stomach as she got up. Shuffling over to the sink as she saw how pale she looked. Her tired sunken eyes stared back at her. She swiftly washed her face along with brushing her teeth.

A knock was heard in her bedroom. She kept brushing her teeth as she opened it up. Her curls were pulled into a high ponytail as she glared at Simon.

"How you doing...?" He stopped halfway as he stared her over. He was trying to flirt with her but as he noticed how sickly she looked

"Why do you look like a child during the black plague?" He teased as he leaned into the doorway.

She rolled her eyes as she jab her toothbrush into his stomach

"I'm sick that's all..." She stated as she turned on her feet. He eyed her over a bit, she still looked amazing. But won't tell her

"Well you look pale. Have you taken anything?" He asked as he enter her room. He sat on her bed, making himself comfortable as he stared at her.

"Taken everything..." She stated as she put her toothbrush back and rinsed her mouth out. She waddled out as he noticed a soft glow to her.

"Are you happy to see me?" He teased, she threw a shirt at him as she slid on a new one

"Not you.. your friend maybe." She joked as she walked over to the bed. She plop down as she felt her body ache and her stomach churning.

"Maybe I should get a test..."

Simon stared at her head as she was face into her bed. He ponder her words as he wanted to speak. But he knew what she meant. He just didn't know how to feel about the topic or idea.

"You'll know if it's anything..."

"That's not helping me get it up Xi..." He joked. But he noticed her glare as she spoke up.

"You're not getting laid tonight Simon..."

"I had a feeling.. once I saw your face.." he looked off, a bit disappointed in her words. But he fully understood with her situation. Or theirs? He ponder on that as he didn't think at this age he could have kids. Kids wasn't a topic he thought about, fuck even they weren't dating. It was just a fling between them. It's not like he thought she was beautiful, an intelligent woman, nor the fact she could knock him out-

He blinked a bit as he realized he did like her. A lot.

"If it's positive?" He asked her, she stared at him for a second. Sitting up she tucked her legs under her bottom. She was thinking as she knew she wanted kids, but their situationship wasn't ideal.

"We'll just see..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When she finally took the test. They all came out positive, and Simon was away on a mission. A solo one.

She fidget with her hands a bit as she was thinking. What to do what to do...

A month would pass. And she decided to keep it, she still went on missions. Mostly coverts so she wasn't always in immediate danger.

When Simon did return he quickly found her. He had his phone back as he got her several texts. That she was indeed pregnant.

When he found her, he felt his heart stop as she was chatting with a few recruits. The way they stared at her, the way she glowed. His breath still for a second as he ponder his actual reaction to her.

Once their eyes met, Ximena stared as she smiled a bit. She excused herself as she made her way over to the tired soldier. Her hair was perfectly in a high bun, to standard honestly. Her bangs brushed against her cheeks as she stopped in front of him

"we need to chat huh...?" She spoke as he nod. He lead her away from prying eyes as they took a walk. She had her hands behind her back as she spoke.

She was a month pregnant, baby was fine. She got her own apartment outside of base and been staying off due to her pregnancy. One higher up knew of her condition, she kept it there for now.

Simon nodded his head as she ranted on. How she was excited, that if he didn't want anything to do with it he didn't. She would be fine-

"Xi I wanna be apart of this..." He stopped her after she said those words. His eyes shook a bit as he kept his gaze on her. Ximena stared at him as she felt a blush to her cheek.

"Are you sure?... Because you don't have to."

"Yes, and I think we need to change our situation. I would officially like to date you Ximena... It would be honest especially with them involved now. I don't want you to think I'll leave anytime soon, I wanna be apart of this.." he admitted towards her. She blinked a bit as she knew they had feelings. But they never wanted to push it into an actual relationship. Well he didn't... But to hear his words now she was so calm as she responded.

"I would like that... You really are being more considerate with this than I thought." She teased him a bit as they started to walk again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As months pass. Their relationship was flourishing. They got along well, they always did honestly before they started dating. As Ximena grew a bit bigger and a did show especially since her size.

She got to meet his family even. Besides his father, that was one rule he told her. His mother loved her, even pulled Simon to the side saying she was 'the best thing for him'. And he softly agreed, knowing just a few months ago they were nothing more than each other's sags. But he was happy about their situation that lead to now.

As they got closer to eight months. Eventually the two moved in together into her apartment. A simple two bedroom, with talks of building their own home even. On the outskirts of town. About an hour from base, it would be in the forest. They found a great plot of land even. Simon told Ximena this was his gift to her, a way to solidify their relationship.

"Simon I can't let you pay for this on your own.." she said one night folding clothes into the baby's dresser. He was built the crib as he was on the floor. Screwing in the screws into their spots

"Not a problem. I want to do this... So let me for us." He said as he glanced over to her. Seeing her in one of his shirts that used to look like a dress, now snug over the belly she had. She sighed a bit as she looked towards him, her curls were in braids running over her chest. Her hands were a bit swollen from the pregnancy along with her feet.

"Mama you should be resting..." He said as he went back to building. He loved the way Ximena was decorating the nursery. He picked a few items himself even for the baby's room.

She finished up her task as she went over and placed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Ok but I'll be making dinner now though." She said a bit teasing to his concerns

"Oi! Don't over do it woman-" he said his tone a bit stern yet playful as he tossed a sock at her. They both filled the room with laughter as he stopped his task to go help her. They just wished it could stay like that-

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A few months would pass. Simon was put on a mission with a couple recruits in Mexico. Ximena even helped him learn Spanish.

But they went no contact. It's been a few months. And Ximena gave birth alone. Her own family was back home in Mexico at the time for a family reunion.

So as she sat in the hospital bed alone. Holding the little little bundle of joy. Seeing the little girls light complexion like Simons.. Seeing the way the babs little nose scrunched up. And those blueish eyes opened up to met brown ones. Ximena softly ran a finger over her soft chub cheeks. She hum a bit as she was thinking.

Shes here, she's finally here...

The bab let a small whine out as her little fist clenched. Her mouth forming an 'o' as she whined out

"You're just hungry I know.." her voice was soft as she coed to the child. Letting her feed as she softly held her in her arms. Ximena leaned back in the bed as she looked around.

It was lonely.

Where was Simon?

So many thoughts filled her head as she softly sobbed into the child's hold. It was peaceful for a second.

And finally he returned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When he came back. Mauled, distraught, even mentally scar. But Ximena knew she had to see him. As she went on base with the baby in tow. She was a bit scared as she came down the medical unit. In civilian clothes she got to see him.

Holding the baby close as she got a glimpse of his blonde hair. He stared back to her as he gave a smile. He had a few new scars on his face and they littered his body. But she was so happy to see him, she ran over as she held him.

Simon was cautious as he noticed the baby. His large hand holding her face close as he linger to the tot in his partners arms

"Is that her?" He asked as she nods.

"Simon Riley... I want you to met Anna... Anna Julie Riley..." She said the name softly as she let him stare. He noticed her Spanish accent peaking as he sigh and smiled.

"Anna? That's a gorgeous name you picked... I'm so sorry I wasn't there..." He said as he ran a hand over Ximena's arm. She stared at him with loving eyes as she shook her head.

"Don't you apologize... You couldn't have known.." she said as she sat besides him on the bed. She let him hold Anna close. As they finally were together again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sadly as months passed. The start of the stalking that happened by Roba and those he was able to control.

And sadly concerns were made within their little family. Ximena thankfully was able to have the house started after he left. The design and everything was done. Just had to be built.

Simon was on leave for now. Rethinking if he wanted to continue in the forces. He helped his family even. Got his brother out of trouble, he settled down even and had a child. His father was kicked out the family too-

It would be around a few months of Anna being born. When it all crumble for Simon..

That night he was gone to go visit his family alone. Ximena was with her family with the baby. Some family time apart, it was going great.

But when Simon found his families house, everyone dead. Making it seem like he caused this.He decided to give General Shepherd's words a thought. Become a Ghost for me. I'll help you and your family-

Simon was firm in his thoughts as he knew who was responsible. Even went solo as the 'crime' sprees that were pointed to him. Faked his death even. Trying to fix the mess that was being created because he didn't finish the task of Roba.

When he returned to the home he and Ximena made. He made a call.

Ximena came home later as she realized that he wasn't home. But she found a note...

I'll be back. I'll tell you more when I come back. Just know I love you and Anna so much.. wait for me. -S

It would be a few weeks later she would find out everything. She was mortified. Distraught even to hear about his passing and his family, along with the fire. They had to make her believe he died. They Had To.

Which didn't help when months passed and he came to the home in a black balaclava. When Ximena opened the door, seeing those eyes stare at her. She was furious, she was hurt. She felt betrayed by the action even.

Anna was firm in Ximena's arms, clinging to her mommy. She let a huff out as she let the man enter the house.

He came into the home as Ximena let him. She didn't wanna argue in front of the tot. Putting the baby into her playpen. Her on her legs as she watched the little music show on the telly.

Ximena wrapped her arms around his neck as she was starting to cry. All her emotions and fears crawled forward. Simon clung to her as he let her feel everything.

"Puta madre Simon... What the hell happened..." She whispered. And he explained, taking the mask off as he sat her in the kitchen.

He told her everything. That Shepard made him an offer, become a Ghost. He doesn't exist technically. Simon Riley is dead... He even was told that most of his work would be solo, mixed in whatever else they needed him to do

Ximena stared at him afterwards as she ponder the words. Her heart and soul aching but slowly was mending.

"So we can't marry..?" She asked him, it's been a couple years together now.

He stared at her as he ponder the thoughts.

"Us alone we could...no big wedding... I know I need to make you a honest woman.." he joked as she swat his arm. In all seriousness they didn't know how this all would go. How their lives will change with this.

They thought Anna was the scariest and biggest thing to happen between them.

But Ghost, this person that would now be added to their everyday. At home and on base, it would take some adjustments. But they've done it before. Like they did thos years back. And they'll be fine.

"I love Simon..."

"I love you Ximena... Please don't ever forget that..."

"Papa! Mama!"

The two stared to their nine months old. Feeling a bit at ease. And smiled to their faces. Love was clear in the air for their family.

Maybe everything will be alright after all...

🌟💕

[luckyshouse]

your post about did helped me a lot i may or may not be a system but i have some people show up in my head sometimes and ones been around for a while so it means a lot to me and validating as im still very confused about it so thank you

of course! im more than happy that it helped. i speak from experience, i've been diagnosed with severe ptsd since i was twelve, and psychiatrists/therapists have brought up DID in the past, but for years i rejected the idea because i simply just don't line up with the typical presentations of DID. ive never felt like i had more than one person in my body, i've never had obvious or noticable switches, and everything i've ever done, i've always held a "oh yeah that sounds like me i did that" mentality, even if i didn't remember directly doing it. a lot of my DID symptoms are more internal than external, but even when it is internal, my alters do not come to me in the figures of people or even "Characters" most of the time. Just a large rotating wheel of concepts and aesthetics and occasionally kins, but even the kinning part is less about the character and more about the metaconcepts of the character and the tropes.

we live in a society in america that encourages people to bisect their identity even without DID, and i think that has contributed a lot to peoples experiences as well. even if you get all the help you can for PTSD, or feel like your trauma isn't that bad, the way society is set up to encourage you to splinter your identity and keep them seperate. that mixed with trauma is absolutely how you end up developing DID, and i think it's something thats left out of DID conversations all the time. another thing i think isn't spoken about enough is that DID is never the same as someone elses, and is primarily based on your preferred forms of escapism while you were a developing child. i believe the idea of DID having multiple people in one body may actually come from the older sorts of systems that existed before the internet, and before larger forms of escapism became common. with the internet, i feel like that's broadened the way people could develop DID as well, since it's easier than ever to get into rp spaces, or make ocs, or pretend to be different people, or distance yourself from your body. i know people whos alters genuinely do not come to them as characters, they embody themselves as a large processing machine and their "alters" are different apps they run on the computer for different tasks. when i was told about their experience, it sort of clicked for me, that this isn't a disorder about having "more people" in your brain, but an organizational system for your trauma and reactions/beliefs. it will always and forever be based off of how you existed as a child, and it never will fall under the rules of what people will try to tell you.

i think a lot of "syscourse" on tumblr has lead to a really terrible awful idea of what DID is and how someone can experience it, and has convinced people that they need to seek out "fake" systems. but even if a system WAS faking, they are still undeniably a person with PTSD and identity issues, and i don't see why assuming they are fake would help anyone in that situation. they still need help, they still need to cope, and they'd likely still benefit from plurality spaces. people see it as a very black and white issue, when in reality its like no system will ever be the same as the other, none of them will communicate the same, none of them will ever experience the same exact things, and this is because dissociative systems literally are based off of the persons family and life dynamics. no one lives the same life twice. there for no system exists the same twice.

i hope you have a good day! and i hope the ppl that show up in your head have a good one too